Thursday, March 28, 2013

The Second City

The Second City: Backstage at the World's Greatest Theater by Sheldon Patinkin
2000
Weight: 3.4 lbs
Method of Disposal: Donating

In high school I was smitten with the theater teacher. Its true. I never had a class with her, though I had one with her brother years before (does that count?!). I really have no idea how it started or where/when I first saw her. It was kinda a joke and kinda serious. Sometimes, I would skip class and go to hers. I do not think she ever noticed that I was not suppose to be there and, if she did, she never said anything.

At one point, I did semi-date-ish someone in her class, and I would watch them acting on stage, as I hid in the shadows of the back row of the theater. I would have been all over the place then, hormones raging, I am sure.

I would vie to be the one to give her a back rub some days and, other days, I would just go to french class. Obviously, I never convinced her, and I mostly hid from her when I was not rubbing her shoulders. I do not think we were ever properly introduced, and I sure as hell never told her my name. Thinking back on it, I feel sorry for her. How disturbing to have someone so young intrested in you and, believe me, I was not the only one, haha.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Follow by Email

Among the Rubble of Fallen Bookshelves...

I have collected books for as long as I can remember. I worked in bookstores for years before I ended up at the animal shelter. I have gathered words, sentences, punctuation, and cover art to my own detriment. I purchased books before clothes, sometimes instead of food. I can see my childhood, adolescence, and young adulthood sprawled across many shelves and shoved into boxes that sit collecting dust, just waiting for the next big move. I think I am a woman who is afraid of commitment, settling, and stagnation. Yet the things I love most seem to coincide best with a stable, secure, immovable life. I love dogs, books, and often one woman’s company above that of others. The dogs are here for the long haul. They are too wonderful for this world and yet they are essential to it. The woman is complicated. The books are sturdy, durable, constant, perfect, and full of intrigue. They are also very heavy. They are boxes of ounces, pounds, kilograms, weight. We have moved together too many times. Maybe we met at the wrong time in the wrong place, and I have just refused to let go all of this time. I have decided to dismantle this library of thousands of books. What am I holding onto really? I have books I loved, books I hated, books that made me uneasy for weeks, and books that made someone else uneasy for weeks. I have begun to treat these books like objects and not like the magical capsules they are. I am going to give away, sell, donate all of this weight so that others can enjoy it, collect it, share it, and so that I can move more freely through my life. Libraries are where it’s at. The problem: I am terrified to let the books go. We have been together so long and put each other through so much. The only way I can imagine sending them off is if I memorialize each and every one I have left at this moment. This blog is to honor my friends, my enemies, my lovers, my life, and my words as I have collected them through the books I have read and, finally, to move away from them and onto other things. I will never stop loving books. I will never stop reading. I plan only to stop collecting so much material, so much weight.